by Jodi Thomas
He groaned and she almost apologized. “If you talk any more I’ll have to write everything down for your obit. We both know I had to stand in line in high school just to get to talk to you. Half the guys in town wish they were you right now.”
He turned to face her, anger flashing in his eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry to unload on you, but you started it. You brought me here.” He leaned down and kissed her hard on the lips. Not a sweet kiss, or a loving kiss, but a challenge.
“That’s what I think about, Rea.” He stepped back, still angry. “That and a whole lot more. I think about you.”
She watched him, more confused than mad. Who was this man and what had he done with Noah? Slowly, the truth sank in. Noah was no longer a kid. Part of her had kept him in her mind and heart as the boy she’d first met, but this man before her was different.
When she didn’t move, he broke the silence. “Forget what I said. Hell, forget that I kissed you. Let’s go back and see if old Jeremiah has his sweetheart from over sixty years ago in bed yet.”
She laughed, glad to have the Noah she knew back. The man she’d glimpsed was too unsettling. “Stop it. I don’t even want to think about Aunt Pat and Jeremiah that way.”
“Trust me, Rea, fighting is just one step away from foreplay. Her support hose might already be around her ankles.”
Rea took off running.
“What’s your hurry?” Noah smiled. “It’s going to take them a while.”
“I’ve got to stop it. What if Aunt Pat gets pregnant?”
The old Noah was almost back as they drove home. He made all kinds of jokes about the old couple and what the families would have to say about them rolling in the hay.
Rea knew Noah’s joy was forced, but she didn’t care. She had her best friend back for a time. Maybe he’d forget about the kiss he’d given her. Maybe she would too.
When they reached the house it was almost dark. Rea jumped out of the pickup and looked back at him still sitting in the cab. “Aren’t you coming in?” she asked. “Cindy’s making smothered burritos.”
Noah slid over to the driver’s side. “I think I’ll go for a drive if you got enough gas in this old thing.”
“It’s standard. Can you handle shifting with your arm in a cast?”
“I’ll manage.” He shoved the gearshift into reverse and was gone before she could offer to go with him.
Reagan watched him drive out onto Lone Oak Road. When she walked back to the porch, Jeremiah was sitting in his favorite chair.
She sat down next to him, knowing better than to ask him how he was feeling.
“That Noah?” he said after a few minutes.
Reagan nodded. “I don’t know where he’s going, so don’t bother asking. He makes me so mad. One minute he kisses me and the next minute he can’t get out of my sight fast enough.”
Jeremiah stared out at the sunset. “Ain’t nobody who can make you mad, kid. You have to get there by yourself.”
“You’re right.” She thought of adding that she planned to stew in her bad mood a while, so he could keep his advice to himself.
After a while he added, “I’m guessing the same is true of kissing you. Nobody better even try unless you want them to.”
She didn’t answer. She wasn’t willing to admit she wanted him to, but she hadn’t stopped him.
Finally, Jeremiah unfolded from the chair. “Come on, girl, let’s go eat. Don’t worry about him. A man’s got to fight his own demons. You can’t do it for him.”
Reagan pulled her knees to her chin. “I don’t understand why he came back here. He’s not happy and he doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.”
Jeremiah chewed on that for a minute, then answered so low his voice blended into the wind. “Maybe he came back here to fall. Maybe right here is the only place he knows he’ll be safe if he crashes. Funny thing about rodeo heroes, or any kind for that matter; when they fall it’s sometimes farther to ground than they thought.”
Reagan decided her uncle was slipping. Noah had relatives all over town and a family who spoiled him. He could have gone back to any of them and been welcomed.
She stood and helped her uncle inside. Before they reached the kitchen, she said, “I didn’t let him kiss me. I just didn’t stop him.”
“Oh,” Jeremiah says. “Makes perfect sense. What you planning on doing next time . . . let him or stop him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Might want to make up your mind, ’cause I got a feeling next time will be coming.”
Chapter 35
BUFFALO BAR AND GRILL
BEAU YATES AND HIS FRIEND BORDER BIGGS CLAMBERED in the back door of the Buffalo Bar and Grill with all their equipment.
Harley, the owner, stood with his arms folded over his massive chest waiting for them. “’Bout time you boys showed up.”
Beau set down his keyboard. “We got here as fast as we could.”
Harley nodded as if to apologize. “I guess you did. The band out of Lubbock called half an hour ago saying they were having car trouble. This was the second and last time they’ll be canceling on me.”
“Can we have their slot?” Beau asked.
Harley laughed. “You got more than six songs?”
“Sure, we got eight.”
“Good enough for this crowd. I’ll pay you the same money and you now have two nights a month.”
“And a meal at break,” Border said. “I didn’t have time to eat before we loaded up.”
Harley nodded. “Give the cook your order before you climb in the cage and I’ll make sure he delivers it on break.”
Ten minutes later they broke their first song to an almost empty bar. One table of cowboys in from one of the big ranches for the evening was talking so loud they could have been playing the theme to Sesame Street and no one would have noticed. Two couples more interested in each other than dancing and one lone man at the back booth with a cast on his arm.
Beau watched him as they moved from song to song. He never looked up except to wave for another beer. He was young, probably only a few years older than Border, but he looked hard. Like he didn’t care about anyone or anything but the beer.
As people finally started to get up and dance, Border’s brother came in. Like before, he sat at the bar and ordered one beer. Brandon still had his construction clothes on. He nodded at a few people, but mostly he just smiled at Border playing away. Beau knew his friend didn’t have any parents, but he sure had one big brother who was proud of him.
When they took their break, Harley brought them food and Cokes. “You boys are getting better. I’m starting to recognize a few songs.”
“Thanks,” Beau said, wondering if it was a compliment or not. Border didn’t seem to care. The steak burgers and fries had totally distracted him.
Brandon Biggs pushed away from the bar and headed over to say hello, but he stopped when he noticed the man at the last booth.
Beau couldn’t hear what the two men were saying to each other, but it didn’t look too friendly. Finally, the guy with a cast on his arm half stood and took a swing at Brandon.
Brandon ducked, then lifted the cowboy over his shoulder as if he were a sack of grain. With Brandon gripping his good arm, the guy had no chance to fight. Brandon carried him out of the bar and no one seemed to notice the kidnapping.
Beau wasn’t about to say anything. He had only five minutes to eat before he had to start the next set.
NOAH WOKE UP WHEN REAGAN’S RATTLING OLD PICKUP turned off Lone Oak Road and hit the dirt trail heading toward the Truman farm. He’d driven it so many times in high school he recognized every bump, and right now every one felt like a hammer pounding in his head.
Only Rea wasn’t driving; she knew when to swerve right or left. For a moment, in the dark of the cab, he didn’t recognize Brandon Biggs. He and Bran had fought off and on for years. Biggs had lived in a few towns around Harmony. They’d butted heads in football and during after-game fights.
&nb
sp; The strangest thing seemed to be that Bran and Reagan were friends. A mismatched pair if he’d ever seen one. She didn’t come to the middle of the big guy’s chest, but Noah had seen her poking him with her finger and yelling when she thought he wasn’t listening to advice. Funny thing was, the big guy always backed down.
Reagan was petite and would probably get carded until she was forty. Bran, on the other hand, must be inflatable. Every time Noah saw the thug he seemed to get a little bigger. Not just taller or fatter, but bigger all over from head to foot.
Noah gulped down the need to throw up and said, “She call you to come get me, Bran?”
“Who?”
“You know damn well who. Reagan.”
“I haven’t talked to her. I just went in to watch my little brother play at Buffalo’s. Didn’t take much when I saw her truck to figure out you were the one driving it. Since you’re too drunk to drive, I’m just taking you with me while I take her truck back to her.”
Noah didn’t believe Bran. Reagan had been watching over him like a mother hen since she brought him home. “I’m not staying with her,” he admitted. “I’m just staying out the Truman place.”
Bran smiled. “I figured that out too. She’s got you on some kind of pedestal, thinking you’re a hero, but I’m giving you fair warning: When you let her down, and you will let her down, I’ll be there to catch her.”
Noah thought of slamming his fist into Bran’s smiling face, but either they’d run off the road and hit one of the evergreens old Jeremiah had planted after the prairie fire a few years ago, or Bran would pull up and beat him senseless. Drunk and with one arm in a cast, Noah didn’t think he’d put up much of a defense. In fact, he almost wished the thug would pound on him a while.
“Let me out at the side door.” Noah said. “And much as I hate it, I guess I should say thanks. I would have been really embarrassed if my sister had stopped me driving drunk.”
“You could have killed yourself.”
“No such luck.” Noah climbed out of the pickup and headed up the stairs. He had no idea how Bran planned to get back to town, and he really didn’t care.
A half hour later Noah stepped from the shower. His body was healing. The bruises had faded and his arm no longer ached, but now he felt like something was wrong with his mind. Any other time, when he had to sit out a while to recover, he’d counted the days until he could go back. Now, he seemed to be mourning each day as being one less day he could stay here.
Getting drunk didn’t help a thing, not that he thought it would.
He stepped out into the hallway and slowly felt his way to his room. Halfway down, his hand encountered something soft along the wall. Something breathing.
Noah gently felt the body. A mass of curly hair. Short. Rounded. “Rea?” He was surprised she hadn’t slapped him. He quickly pulled his hand away.
“I wanted to say something before we both call it a night, if you’re sober enough to listen.”
“I’m sober enough,” he said.
“About that kiss this afternoon . . .”
“I shouldn’t have done it,” he admitted. In truth he didn’t even know why he had. She’d just asked him what he dreamed about, and she was definitely one of his favorite dreams.
“You’re right, you shouldn’t have kissed me,” she whispered. “I want to give it back.”
She placed her hand on the side of his face and slid her thumb to his mouth. A moment later, her lips replaced her touch and she kissed him.
At first he didn’t react. He couldn’t react. If he’d been less drunk, maybe he would have thought what to do. If he’d been more drunk, he might have just relaxed and enjoyed it. She ended the kiss before he could decide.
“There,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Don’t kiss me again unless I ask you to, and you’ll die of old age before I ask.”
She was gone so fast he bumped against the wall reaching for her.
Chapter 36
SUNDAY
MARCH 14
SUNDAY AFTERNOON WAS ALWAYS THE SAME. RONELLE went to church with her mother, cleaned the kitchen after lunch, and slipped into her only pair of jeans and an old T-shirt of her father’s. Dallas usually commented that Sunday was a day of rest, so while her mother napped, Ronelle did the list of chores Dallas always left taped to the fridge.
When she finished, she settled down at the kitchen table and began a new crossword. Clouds gathered in the sky outside the kitchen window and Ronelle wondered if rain was heading in again. The days were changing from winter to spring, but the air still had a chill to it.
As the clock struck five, her mother hurried in, re-dressed in her Sunday best. When leaving, Dallas was always in a rush, as if her days were so full she barely had time to move from one important appointment to another.
“I’d like to take you with me tonight,” Dallas shouted as though Ronelle weren’t three feet away. “But this is an important meeting to plan my high school reunion. If you tag along they’ll think I have dementia, like Freda May Willis. Her daughter is the only one at the meetings who really doesn’t belong, but no one says anything because poor Freda can’t remember her own name half the time.”
Ronelle put her pencil down and looked like she was listening.
“I have to go or you know all they’ll do is talk about me. I’m sure that’s what they do if I’m late or leave early. I know it even though I let them think I don’t.”
Ronelle was only half listening. In her mind she was reliving for the hundredth time how Marty had kissed her.
“Why don’t you walk down to the diner and get you something? Your cooking skills are so poor a rat would starve around here if you did the meals. I didn’t have time to even buy frozen dinners yesterday what with my hair appointment. Now with that endless wind my hair will probably be a mess by the time I get there. They scheduled the meeting all the way out at Hilltop Baptist Church and, of course, Betty insisted we all bring a salad. By the time we eat and get the meeting over with, I know it will be late, but if I miss it they’ll screw up this year’s reunion as badly as they did last year’s.”
Ronelle knew better than to do more than nod.
“The walk to downtown will do you good. You’ve been sitting around all day. Be sure you’re back before dark. It’s a dangerous world out there, Ronelle. You’re lucky you’re not a woman men take a second look at or you’d find out just how dangerous.” Dallas pulled her lettuce and apple salad from the refrigerator. “Don’t forget to lock the doors when you get home. I don’t want to walk into a bloody crime scene when I get back home.”
Dallas left, still talking and totally unaware that her daughter hadn’t said a word in two days.
Ronelle thought about putting on her pajamas and eating the last of the chocolate ice cream, but she didn’t want to stay home, and the soup she’d had for lunch had left her hungry. The evening was still and so cold the bare branches crackled in the old elm trees. She’d enjoy a walk.
She tied her hair up in a knot, slipped her jacket over the white T-shirt and left out the back door. No matter where she walked in town, there was always the chance her mother’s friends might see her and report in, but if she walked the old dried-up creek bed that ran behind her house on its way across town, she could be alone.
Once in a while, when Dallas Logan went to bed with one of her headaches, Ronelle would walk the creek after dark. Then she could hear the music from Buffalo’s Bar and Grill on summer nights, and even cross into the shadows of downtown and window-shop in stores locked up for the night.
She slid down the five-foot slope and felt her feet crunch on long-dead leaves. To her this place had always been like a secret wonderland. She loved the rare times she walked its windy trail while there was still enough daylight to see all its wonders. Sometimes she’d imagine that she had stepped into the first days of Harmony when the town was little more than a general store and a livery stable. Harmon Ely owned the town and all around. Three men worked for hi
m: a Matheson, a Truman, and a McAllen. All three men brought their families west, but Harmon’s never came. In the end, when he knew his family wasn’t joining him, the old man left everything to the three families. The creek bed had been a river then. Ronelle could almost feel the ghosts of all those early settlers surrounding her as she walked.
Once she’d found a plate, old and broken into a half dozen pieces in the mud of the creek bed. She’d hidden the pieces away and each time she returned to that spot, she’d stop and put the plate back together like a puzzle she’d worked many times. Somehow the pieces held her to the history of the place.
Ronelle passed the steps behind Winter’s Inn and knew Martha Q had them built so she could also walk the creek bed, but it was far too cold for anyone her age to be out this late. Ronelle assumed the plans for the club Martha Q wanted to start were still being ironed out. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t see herself going, and she knew her mother wouldn’t insist. After all, if Ronelle found a man, that would leave Dallas alone.
When she reached the trees behind the Blue Moon Diner, Ronelle decided to stop in for her dinner. The wind was starting to kick up and she didn’t want to be out when it started raining or got too dark. She was halfway up the slope when she spotted a couple arguing near the back door of the diner.
Ronelle slid back down the slope, kicking up rocks and dirt as she moved. She didn’t want to interrupt the couple. Retracing her steps, she walked about half a mile and decided to climb up where a small bridge crossed over the creek bed. The concrete was old and crumbling in spots. She’d heard the city council arguing about when to replace it, but later always got the most votes.
A cloud blocking the weak winter sunset and shadows of trees made it hard to see just where to step or grab hold. She managed to get to the street and reached for the piping running along the side of the bridge.
